


Make Much of Time

by coricomile



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Rookie Sid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:07:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23961247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/pseuds/coricomile
Summary: "Geno- please. I want it to be you."The ID fic of 24 year old Geno banging Rookie Sid after the '09 Cup with Feelings.
Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin
Comments: 16
Kudos: 184





	1. Chapter 1

The party has mostly wound down. The guys with families are long gone, babysitters already in place, and the guys without heading down to Carson street to hit up the bars. Every last one of them will be getting their dicks wet tonight, heroes of the city, and Zhenya only envies it in a distracted, standard way. He's happy enough to float in the pool with Sid- sweet, first time drunk Sid- and baskin the glory of a win. 

"Can you-" Sidney looks up at the sky, his fingers tapping restlessly on his leg. The chlorine has dried his hair into messy spikes, and the wispy, dark hairs of his patchy beard are plastered down to his face. He doesn't say anything else, just keeps tapping his fingers. 

"Sid?" Zhenya lays a hand on Sid's shoulder, rubbing gently at the cold skin. They just won the Cup. Sid shouldn't look so damn sad. 

"Will you sleep with me?" Sid asks. It comes out quick, but Zhenya catches every word. Sidney finally looks at him, chin tilted up and eyes bright in the moonlight. "Sex, I mean. With me." Zhenya jerks and nearly tips backward into the water,, but Sid's hand shoots out and catches his arm. 

"Sid-"

"I know you don't- like me like that," Sid says. His hands are freezing, and Zhenya can feel the cold sinking into his skin. "But we just won the Stanley Cup. I want to- everyone else is getting wasted and having sex. And I can't- I can't just go to a gay bar and pick someone up. I can't do that."

"Sid-"

"Please," Sid says quietly. He drops his hands into his lap and fiddles with the tie of his trunks. They're black and boring, a size too big to compensate for his ass. "I know it's a lot to ask. But you're literally the only guy I know into other guys." 

Zhenya closes his eyes and rubs a hand over his face. He shouldn't. There are so many reasons why he shouldn't. It doesn't change the ache in his chest at remembering his own first fumbles with other men. If he'd known someone close, someone experienced that wouldn't talk, he would have asked, too.

"Sid-"

"Please, Geno," Sid pleads. And Zhenya breaks. He's wanted this since the first time he saw Sid's wide eyes and crooked smile. He's _wanted_.

"What you do before?" Zhenya asks. The chlorine has dried on his skin, and he's itching to jump in the shower to wash it off, but he doesn't want to give Sid a reason to doubt himself and inviting him in, too, is a terrible idea. Sex in the shower is always less exciting than it sounds. 

"I've made out with a few girls," Sid says. He shifts awkwardly, hands hovering around his thighs like he's trying to shove them into pockets that aren't there. "I, uh, went down on one once." He wrinkles his nose like he doesn't even realize he's doing it. Zhenya tries to imagine Sidney Crosby on his knees, eating a girl out with everything he's got- because even if the face he's making says he didn't particularly like it, Sid never does anything but give his best- and is a little ashamed at how hot it is. Sid's got the mouth for it. 

"No boys at all?" Zhenya asks, because that's the important question. Sid shakes his head, eyes everywhere but on Zhenya. He's hunched in on himself, smaller than Zhenya's ever seen him, and that's not right at all. Zhenya closes the space between them, moving slow, and puts one hand on Sid's waist. His skin is clammy from the pool, but it's soft and warms up as Zhenya rubs his palm over it. "You sure you want?"

"I know enough about my dick to know I like men," Sid snaps. His eyes finally meet Zhenya's, his head tilted back and his mouth pressed into a tight, angry line. Zhenya just keeps stroking his hip with his thumb. 

"I'm mean with me," Zhenya says. "Is lots of men who sleep with you." Sid deflates. He's quick to anger, but he's also quick to forgive. Zhenya raises his other hand and pushes back Sid's mess of too-long curls, holding him in place. "Very handsome. Very good at hockey. Great ass. You change mind, not want now, I teach you how pick up boys at bar. Less scary if someone else with you."

"I'm not going to change my mind," Sid says. He licks his lips and then very, very carefully lays his hand flat against Zhenya's chest, his fingertips catching on the gold chain there. He looks so determined to be unafraid that Zhenya wants to pull him close and shelter him from the assholes that gave him any sort of fear in the first place. He can't do that- no one can do that- but he can make Sid's first time as good as possible. That's going to have to be enough for now. 

"Okay, Sid," Zhenya says softly. 

He leans in, slow enough to give Sid a chance to back out, but Sid rocks onto his toes, meeting Zhenya halfway. Their noses meet before their mouths do, a brief flare of pain that brings Zhenya back to his own fumbling first kisses. Sid isn't very good- he opens his mouth too wide, leads with his tongue more than he doesn't, which makes Zhenya's perpetually chapped lips sting- but he's enthusiastic. Zhenya pulls back just enough to see the whole of Sid's pink face.

"Like this," Zhenya says, gentle the same way Katya had been with him when she'd taught him to kiss. He thinks about it sometimes, that he'll always kiss the way she did, and now Sid will too. He kisses Sid again, leading him through the motions. It's good in a way, he thinks. Giving Sid a goal to reach is always the best way to calm him down, and Zhenya can already feel him losing some of the tenseness in his body. "Good learner." Sid laughs a little, startled. Zhenya grins and tucks his thumb into the waistband of Sid's trunks. "What you want?" 

"Fuck me?" Sid asks. His voice is a little high, a little strained. Zhenya slides his hand around Sid's hip, spreads his fingers over the swell of Sid's ass. It would be incredible, but-

"Is very big for first time," Zhenya says. Sid's eyes drop down and Zhenya snorts. There's that, too, but not quite what he meant. 

"You won't hurt me," Sid says, and for the first time in the last hour he sounds completely confident. Zhenya doesn't know how he feels about that, but he supposes it's better that Sid has too much faith in him than not enough. 

"We see," Zhenya says. 

He pulls Sid out out of the pool and dries him off with a towel turned gray from age. Sid stays quiet as Zhenya runs it over his thick calves and thicker thighs, as he carefully draws the water away from Sid's ever widening chest. He dries himself off less carefully, scrubbing the water off with hasty movements that leave his skin red and a little raw. When he holds his hand out, Sid takes it without hesitation. 

Zhenya leads Sid through the house, all the way up to his room. He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls Sid down into his lap, laughing at the incredulous sound Sid makes as he tips forward. He's not huge, but he's definitely bulkier than most of the men Zhenya has slept with before. Sid's trunks stretch as much as they can over the wide sprawl of his thighs, the waistband digging into his stomach and turning the skin a paler white. His back is wide and smooth, though, and when Sid reluctantly puts his arms over Zhenya's shoulders, they're stable. 

"I'm not a girl," Sid says. This close, his eyes look huge. 

"I know," Zhenya says. He cups Sid's dick through his trunks and grins when it twitches toward his palm. "Is still good. Make you slow down." Zhenya holds Sid's waist and kisses him again. 

"I don't want slow," Sid says against Zhenya's mouth. 

"Too bad," Zhenya says. He wraps one arm around Sid's back, tugging him closer. It's strange looking up to meet Sid's eyes, but his weight is nice, and Zhenya can feel his cock fattening up against their stomachs. When he kisses Sid again, Sid doesn't complain. 

Sid's kisses turn slowly from awkward, uncoordinated messes into something good, into something hot and a little sweet. He's always been a fast learner, and Zhenya has never been happier about that. They do just that until Zhenya's mouth feels swollen and Sid's squirming, either from arousal or discomfort from having his thighs spread wide for so long. 

"Up," Zhenya says. He pats Sid's hip, feeling a little dizzy. It's been a long time since he's taken his time with someone. He hadn't realized how much he missed it. Sid fumbles backwards until he can get his feet on the ground. His cock is tenting the front of his trunks and his lips are impossibly red. "Shorts off."

"You too," Sid says. He shoves his trunks off with little shame, kicking them toward the corner of the room. "Come on."

"Pushy," Zhenya mumbles. 

Still, he removes his own shorts and takes a moment to show off. He works hard on his body. He knows it looks good. He watches Sid's eyes track down his chest and spreads his thighs, self-assured in a way he's been told is unflattering. Sid doesn't seem to agree, if the jump of his dick against his belly is any indication. 

"Come here," Zhenya says, holding a hand out. Sid takes it after a moment, going along easily when Zhenya tugs him down onto the bed and lays him out flat. He looks golden against the dark comforter, the fading-sunburn-turned tan cutting off in a faded, wobbly line at his hips. "What you want?" Zhenya asks again, tracing the fuzzy tan line with gentle fingertips. 

"I want you to fuck me," Sid says, stubborn as ever. His arms come up to cross over his chest before Sid drops them back down almost immediately. A pang of affection catches Zhenya off guard. If there's anything to say about Sid, it's that he jumps in headfirst, no matter how out of his depth he is. 

"You sure?" Zhenya asks. He rolls onto his side and presses his dick against Sid's thigh. He's not fully hard yet, still more bemused than turned on, but Sid shivers under him. Zhenya hasn't slept with a virgin since he was one himself, and that had involved a lot of crying on both his and Vika's accounts. 

"I want you to fuck me," Sidney says, his eyes sharp and his cock hard. 

"Okay," Zhenya says. "Okay."

The bottle of lavender scented lubricant from the sex shop downtown is half empty, but it'll do. Zhenya digs it out from his dresser, amused as Sid arranges and rearranges himself on the bed. He's beautiful- wide mouth he hasn't grown into and thick chest that still has room to spare and wide, open thighs that are so easy to slide between. He's a dream- a vision in pink cheeks and wide-eyed determination, his cock hard against his belly and his breath shaking. 

"Don't have to," Zhenya says softly as he strokes the flat of his palm over Sid's cock. It's so hot, eager enough to twitch up towards Zhenya's touch. He kisses Sid's forehead, the crest of one cheek, the sweet pout of his full mouth. Sid will break Zhenya's heart one day. It's already written into the stars above, Zhenya knows, but he can't stop himself. "I can show you good time without."

"I want you to fuck me," Sid says again. "Geno- please. I want it to be you."

"Ask too much, Sid," Zhenya says softly. The responsibility of showing Sid how good sex can be is a heavy weight. Zhenya wants to rut and claim and violate. He wants to own this stupid, sweet boy with all of him. "Shh. You put hands-" He flicks the lid of the lubricant and dumps out too much over Sid's hand. "You show. Let me see you ready."

Sid stares at him for a long moment, eyes drink hazy, before he reaches down between those beautiful thick thighs, hand skipping past his dick and down to the impossible shape of his ass. He gives Zhenya a hard-eyed look as he sinks the tips of two fingers in right away, fast and impatient. Sid. Sweet, eager, stupid Sid, always too ready to be the best at eveything he does. Zhenya curls his hand around Sid's wrist and stops him. 

"Slow," Zhenya says. "Slow."

"I don't want slow."

"Too bad." Zhenya guides Sid's arm into a slow, patient rhythm, his own hand guiding them. Sid is strong. Sid can take anything Zhenya can give him, and would probably do it with that sweet smile of his and a begging question on those ridiculous lips. Zhenya doesn't want that. He wants to ruin Sid for anyone else, wants to give him the best night of his life. They just won the Stanley Cup and beautiful Sidney is about to lose his virginity. This should be a night he'll remember forever. 

"Geno-"

"Like this," Zhenya says, leading the rhythm. Sid has two fingers inside of himself, showing off, but Zhenya makes him do his diligence in stretching. "Just like this, Sid." When he lets go, Sid keeps the slow pace, his hand working himself over, a dream in technicolor vodka vision. "Yes, good. You good, Sid."

Zhenya kisses the soft line of Sid's jaw, the scrape of his terrible beard endearing. He presses his tongue to Sid's nipple, laughs when he feels Sid jerk. He sucks a mark into the flat of Sid's stomach, latching onto the baby fat that won't leave him for a few years yet, and feels- something, seeing proof that he was there. That for better or worse, Sid came to him. 

"You have mouth here?" Zhenya asks as he kisses the hot base of Sid's cock. It arches toward his lips, seeking out comfort, Sid's hand still moving between them. "Someone suck you off?"

"No," Sid gasps. "Please-" Sid. Sweet Sid who had gotten his mouth on a pussy before but never gotten a blowjob. Zhenya shushes him before giving him a short, hard suck. It's almost funny, the way Sid twists and moans. His hand stops, and Zhenya presses his fingers back in deep. 

"Don't stop," he says. "Need you open." 

"Geno-"

Zhenya ignores him in favor of running his tongue from tip to base, learning the shape of Sid's cock with his lips and tongue. He still tastes like the pool, chlorine and water and sharp salt that cuts through it all. His own cock has started to ache, a heavy weight between his thighs begging for attention, but he can wait. He will. SId deserves to feel every last good thing Zhenya can give him. 

"Geno-" Sid's hips thrust up when Zhenya finally closes his mouth around the head, sucking lightly. He's never enjoyed giving blowjobs- he'd rather fuck, both of them getting what they need- but Sid is so responsive, his thighs shaking and his breaths coming out choked. "Geno, please." 

"Is okay," Zhenya says softly, curling his tongue over the dripping wet head again. Sid is going to ruin him for anyone else. "Get- how is- take edge away. Make it better." He jerks Sid two, three more times, feeling the heat of him cresting and breaking, so close Zhenya can feel it in his own cock. "I still fuck you. Let go."

And Sid does. His back lifts away from the bed, his face scrunching and his voice turning into a needy, breathless thing. His come covers Zhenya's hand, reaches up to his own chest. Sid, his beautiful, stupid, wonderful Sidney- 

"Yes," Zhenya says, kissing the shaking thigh closest to him. "So good. Pretty."

And Sid is so beautiful that Zhenya could cry. His cheeks are red and his body is shaking and his eyes are so dark when they open again, the hazel replaced with demon black, a temptation Zhenya can't refuse. He should be a better man. He should walk away. He should, he should, he should-

"Geno, please-" Sid pulls his hand away from that magnificent, impossible ass, clutches Zhenya tight against him. He's so young. So sweet and eager. Zhenya is a bad man. Zhenya doesn't deserve this. 

"Zhenya," he says against Sid's cheek. "Is my name. Is-" Zhenya is for family, is for loved ones, is the name he speaks inside of his own head. He'll be Geno for the entire world to see, but here, in his own bed with Sid sweet and pliable and aching for him, he wants his real name. Wants to hear Sid say it with his too round vowels and too hard emphasis on the Z. Wants to know that Sid, virgin Sidney Crosby, is there with _him_ and no one else. 

"Zhenya," Sid says on a gasp. He doesn't say it right at all, but it's the most wonderful thing Zhenya has ever heard. "Please."

It's like sticking his whole body into a fire to pull away. He has to stop touching Sid long enough to get a condom, has to distract himself long enough to put it on, his hand shaking like it was his own first time. He presses his cockhead to the open, tight, forbidden, _untouched_ place and loses himself. He can feel too much inside him as the head of his cock slips into the tight grasp of Sid's body, can feel too much as he watches Sid's face scrunch and hold in pain. 

"I'm stop," Zhenya says into Sid's sweaty throat. "I'm stop, you just-"

"Zhenya," Sid says. He wraps his arms and his legs and himself around Zhenya, pulling him in all the way. It hurts. "Please."

Zhenya does his best to control himself. He tries not to ruck and claim and _own_ , but Sid is- Sid looks at him with wide eyes and sighs and moans so sweetly and throws his hips, strong and proven, into Zhenya's thrusts, ruthless and demanding and Zhenya can't- he can't-

"Geno- Zhenya-" The pale column of Sid's throat begs to be bitten, to be torn into. What a stupid, stubborn boy. What ruin Zhenya could bring to him with a touch, a nip, a vicious tear of teeth or mouth. Zhenya should be a better man. He should make this a better first time for Sid, but he's only so strong. He can only handle so much. " _Please_."

Zhenya fucks into Sid like it's the last thing he'll ever do, fucks like he'll die if he doesn't come soon enough. Sid's cock is still soft between them, one orgasm and too many beers robbing them both from a real prize,but Sid throws his head back and whines, high and sharp and as overwhelmed as Zhenya feels. 

"Sid, Sid I'm-" Zhenya's orgasm hits him like a fist. He shoves himself so deep that he can taste Sid's overworked breaths, shakes himself apart and wishes that the little layer of latex wasn't between them. He's had a taste of heaven. There is no point of return. 

Zhenya collapses, arms and thighs giving into the weakness. Sid is so warm underneath him, so bright and happy as he laughs and gathers Zhenya into his arms. So strong. So young. So dumb. 

"Thank you," Sid says, dick drunk and unaware, eyes fuzzy and smile crooked. "I'm glad it was you."

"Yes," Zhenya says. He pulls Sid into his body and thinks of the future, the miracle the Pens have needed sitting silly and smug and so damned stupid, so _stupid_ and _trusting_. He kisses the stubborn curl at the top of Sid's head, still visible under the sweat. 

"Yes," he says, because he doesn't think he can say anything else to Sid. He's ruined them both.


	2. Deleted bits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had many Plans for this fic, It uh, didn't happen. But hey, Sweet virgin Sid, and some extra backstory.

There's something about Mario that makes Zhenya feel all of ten again. He's never been anything other than polite and courteous, but Zhenya thinks that dinner at Mario's is something like being called into the principal's office without warning. The outcome could be good, but it could also require a call to his mother for something he's done and forgotten about. Plus, he's _Mario Lemieux_. It doesn't matter that Zhenya's known him for a decade. He'll always be a legend.

Zhenya sits at the dining room table, his back straight and his elbows very carefully not on the table as he eats. Mario makes small talk about the Steelers and the upcoming season, as formidable as a storm. 

[Content]

"It would be good for Sidney to have a mentor," Mario says. He hands over a glass of wine that probably tastes amazing to people that actually like wine. Like he does every time, Zhenya smiles and sets it next to his plate. Eventually Nathalie will take pity on him and take it for herself. 

"Why me?" Zhenya asks. Mario levels him with a steady look and Zhenya sighs. "Yes, yes, I'm Captain. Why not Kuni? He have wife and kids." Nathalie makes a small noise and Zhenya glances over at her. She has her napkin in front of her mouth, but her eyes are crinkled in the corners. "Sidney speak French, yes? He be right at home." 

"You don't have to, Geno," Mario says. He carefully sets his cutlery down and leans forward, his hands folded on the table. "No one is going to force you to take a stranger into your home. Just remember how hard it was being the new guy, and what living with the Gonchars did for you in those first years. We still have a little time for you to think about it. If you're not interested, we can take the next step. Just keep an open mind." 

Zhenya thinks of Gonch, of the things he learned that couldn't be taught in a rink. He can give Sidney a house, but he doesn't know how to give him a home. He doesn't know how to give himself a home. 

"Okay," he says. "He can live with me."

\---

Move-in day is hectic. Zhenya calls in the other rookies, as is his due as Captain, and somehow Flower shows up before them, carrying exactly three beers with his name written on them in marker. He shoves two of them into the fridge and sits himself on the couch with the other, putting his dirty fucking feet on Zhenya's coffee table. 

"Why you here if you not help?" Zhenya asks. Flower waves his beer toward the open front door. 

"I'm making sure you don't get robbed," Flower says. "Someone might take your ugly shark and make you cry."

"Don't you have babies to take care of at home?" Zhenya asks. He might not mind Flower taking up space in his living room if he'd brought the girls. 

"They're modeling for the clothing line," Flower says, his chest puffing out with pride. "Vero and Cath are the best in kiddie fashion." Zhenya opens his mouth to make fun of him- it's getting easier and easier the older they get- but a knock on the door interrupts them. 

"Malkin?" Sidney Crosby peeks his head in, eyes wide and a little startled. 

"Call me Geno," Zhenya says. He flicks Flower's ear before joining Sidney at the door. The moving van is parked in the middle of the driveway, Connor and Muzz already unloading boxes from the trailer. "I show you room."

Zhenya leads the way upstairs, pointing out the bathrooms and the gym as he goes. Sidney's quiet, his eyes flicking from photo to photo on the wall. Zhenya hadn't wanted to put any up, but he'd come home one day to find Oksana and a professional decorator tsking at the entire place and that had been that. Sidney's room is the closest to the stairs, and farthest from Zhenya's. He's hoping it's enough distance for any company either one of them might have. 

"Can move furniture however you want," Zhenya says, waving a hand at the room. It's painted an obnoxious shade of blue- another one of the decorator's personal touches- but the window looks out over the backyard and the bed is big and soft. If Sidney doesn't like it, he can always pick a different room. 

"Thank you," Sidney says. He shifts from one foot to another in the doorway, his hands jammed deep into the pockets of his shorts. "You didn't have to do this. I really appreciate it." Zhenya blinks at him for a moment. It's just a spare room. There's no need to break out the earnest praise. 

"Is no problem," Zhenya eventually says. "Live in rookie servant. Works best for me." Sidney cracks a little smile and some of the tense energy flows out of him. 

When they get back downstairs, Conor and Muzz have stacked a pretty decent load of boxes in the front hall. Zhenya leaves Sidney at the door and grabs another beer from the fridge. He's willing to the let the kid live with him. He never said anything about actually helping to move him in. 

"This is a terrible idea," Flower says quietly, frowning disapprovingly at Zhenya. "You know he's eighteen, yes?" 

"So?" Zhenya asks, arms crossed over his chest like there's anyway he can intimidate Flower into backing down. He may be bigger and stronger, but Flower is like one of those tiny, yappy dogs with surprisingly sharp teeth. "Is good thing. I teach him how to be grown up."

"You should have made Duper take him in," Flower says. "He's an actual grown up." 

"Fuck you, I'm grown up." Zhenya shoves a hand into Flower's face and laughs as he flails. He might not be proving his point, exactly, but it's just Flower. Flower, who just last week put itching powder in Olli's jock while Tanger ran interference. He doesn't get to talk about being an adult. "Plus, Duper already have too much problem. I'm not add raising rookie." 

Flower stops struggling against Zhenya's hand, brought back down to Earth by the thought of Duper's recurring illness. They don't talk about it- the same way they don't talk about Tanger's stroke, or Olli's cancer scare, or Beau's endless rotation out to IR. Talking about it won't do anything but make them worry. 

"I think that's it," Sidney says from the stairs. 

[Content]

The kitchen light is already on. Zhenya yawns and tries not to think of how early he has to wake up for today's meetings. Sidney is sitting at the counter, his legs not quite long enough to reach the floor from his perch on the barstool. There's a glass of water in front of him that's mostly empty and a stack of papers sitting next to him. 

"Okay?" Zhenya asks. Sidney startles, his knee banging into the counter, his hands scrambling to grab the glass in front of him before it topples to the floor. Zhenya winces. "Sorry. Not mean to scare."

"I wasn't scared," Sidney says, his voice tight and a little strangled. "I just- couldn't sleep." 

Zhenya yawns again makes his way to the kettle. He can remember his first night in the Gonchar house, nervous for the season and so homesick for his mother he'd wanted to cry. Thankfully, it had been Kensia to find him. He doesn't think that Seryozha would have made fun of him, but he'd needed a soft touch instead of a brutal reality check, and Kensia had given him just that. He doesn't have any spare mothers around, and it's definitely too early to call Vero in for reinforcement, so he's going to have to do this himself. 

"New house, new country," Zhenya says as he fills the kettle and puts it back on the hot plate. He is very firmly his mother's son. Tea cures the soul. There's nothing else for it. "New team. Is lots to deal with."

"I've done this before," Sidney says. He shuffles the papers and Zhenya catches a glimpse of Flower's face as he grabs two mugs. "I haven't lived at home for forever."

"Me too. Still miss home sometimes." Zhenya pulls down a tin of the good stuff. The infusers are shaped like penguins, which Zhenya refuses to feel shame about, and they bob merrily when Zhenya sets the tea on the counter in front of Sidney. His knee pops as he sits down and he grimaces. The fucking thing keeps getting worse. 

"I'm fine," Sidney says. He tilts his jaw up, his lips pressed together tightly. He looks as fierce as a wet kitten. "I drank a lot of coffee today. That's all." 

"Drink tea now," Zhenya says, lifting his own mug to his face. It smells like home, like his mother's kitchen, and even though she's thousands of miles away Zhenya feels comforted. "What you reading?" Sidney tugs the papers closer to himself, averting his eyes. The guys are going to eat him alive. 

"It's nothing," Sidney says, which means it's definitely something. Zhenya pushes Sidney's mug forward and steals the top page when Sidney takes it. "Hey!"

"You gonna lose prank war bad," Zhenya says. He frowns when he looks down. In the top right corner of the page, Beau's headshot stares out at him. His stats and info are listed, and it looks like Sidney's written notes, but his handwriting is so cramped and small Zhenya can't make any individual words out. "You spy?"

"I'm not a _spy_ ," Sidney splutters. "I was just… reading up on the team." He takes a fast gulp of tea and scrunches his nose up. It's cute. 

"Why?" Zhenya asks. There's a paragraph at the bottom with Beau's old teams all the way through minors listed.

"I just like knowing about who I'm going to be playing with," Sidney says. He looks as young as he is, hunched in on himself, his shoulders up to his ears. Zhenya takes pity on him. 

"What mine say?" He grabs the stack of papers without Sidney's interference and flips through until he finds his own face staring back at him. It's just like Beau's page- his stats, his list of teams- but there's more writing at the bottom of the page. He squints at it, like that will help any, but it's just black ink in the end. "You have terrible writing."

"There isn't a lot of room," Sidney says. 

"What it say?" Zhenya asks. 

"Just notes," Sidney mumbles. He shifts on his stool, his hands fiddling with his mug. He hasn't taken another drink. Eventually, Zhenya will bully him into liking it. It's good for him. Zhenya sighs and points to a sentence at random. 

"What it say?" He asks again. Sidney mumbles something, his eyes locked on the counter. "I'm old man. Need say louder."

"It's a list of stuff you said you like in interviews," Sidney says. Zhenya thumbs through the rest of the pages. Sidney's cramped handwriting is on every page. Each of them have at least a few sentences. "TV shows and food and stuff."

"Why?" Zhenya asks. He puts the papers back together and sets them off to the side of the counter. They're weird and a little creepy, and Sidney's clearly embarrassed about it, so he has to know that. "Why not just ask?"

"I'm not-" Sidney hugs his mug to his chest, his shoulders up to his ears. Zhenya's chest aches for him. He's so painfully young, and there is no simple fix for that. "I'm not really good with people. I try to go in with common topics to talk about."

It would be funny if it weren't so sad. The kid is weird, there's no denying it, but he seems nice enough. Zhenya's only ever heard good things about him from other players. He doesn't know what Sidney's problem is, but he already knows he's going to try to help fix it. Zhenya might not be able to show Sidney how to cook or how to figure out the American tax system, but he can help break him out of his shell. 

"Is easy," Zhenya says. He bumps his fist against Sid's shoulder, grinning when he looks up. "You already play hockey together. Spend lots of time together soon. You get so sick of old men tell you what they like, you have to run away." 

It's one of those sentences that he's sure he probably said differently than intended- Sidney's face going from pink to red is definitely a clear indication of that- but it's late, he's tired, and if all Sidney's worried about is the team liking him, he's going to be fine. Flower will probably swoop in and take him under his wing immediately. He's a pain in the ass, but no one is as friendly and welcoming as Flower. Sidney's going to fit in fine. 

"We sleep now, okay?" Zhenya asks. He finishes his lukewarm tea and holds back a laugh as Sid drains his cup and makes another face. Zhenya puts both of their mugs into the dishwasher and trashes Sidney's papers without feeling too bad. Sidney stares at the can for a moment, his mouth twisted down at the corner, but he finally stands up and lets Zhenya usher him up the stairs. 

"You want best gossip, I give," Zhenya says when they're at Sidney's room. He tries to think about what he would have wanted someone to tell him when he was first joining up, but mostly he draws tired static. Tomorrow is going to be hell. "One rule: ask Phil about sister when not hockey and he beat you up." Sidney laughs, high and unexpected, his whole face scrunching up. It's not a laugh like Zhenya's ever heard, but it's enough to make him smile back. 

"If someone asks me about Taylor when it's not about hockey, I'll beat them up, too," Sidney says. Zhenya claps him on the shoulder. "Night, Geno. Uh, thanks. Again. For everything."

"Is no problem," Zhenya says, waving his hand. "Play good, don't be dick, and everything work okay." 

\---

Sidney is… peculiar. 

He's excellent on the ice. He's everything he had been hyped up as and more. Zhenya watches him and wonders how someone so young has such a sharp eye, such a powerful _knowledge_ of what's going to happen. His effect on the team has been seen already. They don't want to be shown up by a rookie, but Zhenya doubts even the sudden improvement is going to be enough to hold Sidney back. 

Off the ice, he's friendly, if a little awkward. He mostly keeps to himself, but he's not hard to find on any given day. Zhenya has his schedules, they all do, but Sidney is like a clock; steady and constant, every day punctuated by the same motions. 

[Content. Season. Winning the 09 Cup. Insert so many hockey here. Sid comes out to Geno and Geno Understands.]


End file.
